“Put this on your face.” He stepped towards me, checking the area and holding the pack to my skin. “Will this do?”
I replaced his hand with mine and sat down on a torn seat. “Thank you.” My exhale was long and cleansing. “I didn’t know you were here today?”
“Last minute thing. I finish in an hour – just waiting about to check a couple of patients who’ve been surgery.” He sat next to me, the warmth of his body heating mine. Rain hit the window behind us. “Where are you meeting Fallon?”
“The Rose and Garter near my apartment, then I think she’s staying at mine. Neither of us are working tomorrow.” Or the next day, thankfully. I was ready for a long, lazy day of doing absolutely nothing apart from getting friendly with at least one book.
“I’ve not been there for years.” He gazed into space, obviously thinking about something. “A proper English pub.”
“I’ll probably have a steak and ale pie with triple cooked chips. Or mashed potato.” Hunger was going to take over very soon, and I didn’t do hangry well.
“With what pudding?”
“Sticky toffee and custard. There’s no other choice really.” Something stodgy, especially when winter was lashing outside.
“Think of me when you’re eating your body weight. I’ll be grabbing a burger on the way home – I’m on an early tomorrow. Five scheduled surgeries.” He didn’t look unhappy about it.
“Fun. I’ll probably still be asleep by the time you finish.”
“That sounds amazing. I’m still running on a different time to everyone else. What else have you got planned?”
“You’re asking like I enjoy socialising.” I raised my brows because he really should know better. “I’m going to an author event tomorrow night though – three crime writers discussing how they come up with their murders.”
“The idea of that scares me – no one needs to give you ideas on how to commit a murder.” He moved the ice pack away from my face, the palm of his hand cupping over mine.
I realised I wasn’t breathing.
“I think the world is safe from my murderous ways. I’ve developed patience being part of my family.” This was true ten times over. I’d already had a dozen text messages from Eliza about her flatmate since lunchtime, which had been ten minutes nabbed in the staffroom with a stale sandwich, and a voicemail from one of my brothers involving panic over a birthday present for our sister. There were at least five messages in our immediate family group which could range from someone having been ‘given’ a snake, to whether or not you could use washing-up liquid in a dishwasher (the other brother). The kitchen floor was now sparkly clean, my mother’s language not so much.
“How long have you been on shift?” It was a sudden U-turn with regards to topic.
Carter frowned, his brow creasing, brown eyes curious. “Seven hours. Why?”
“You still smell good.” And there it was, that neurodiverse characteristic of saying exactly what I was thinking without considering how the other person would take it. As soon as the words had ejaculated from my mouth I braced myself for the uncomfortable feeling that was about to immerse me like a tsunami.
Carter laughed, pulling the ice pack away from my face. “It’s camouflage. I ended up dealing with a patient who’d collapsed into horse manure.”
“Should I ask any more?”
“Please don’t. That’s going to bruise like a peach.”
“Yep. Like I need any help with that.” I glanced down at my thighs. A rainbow of bruises usually adorned them, on my shins and thighs, especially at table height. I was hypermobile, which linked with my lack of proprioception skills and the plethora of incidents caused by what had been deemed clumsiness.
Carter chuckled. He’d teased me mercilessly about my rainbow legs when we kids, and my ridiculous lack of co-ordination. I’d been continuously chosen last for team games in PE at school, lacked balance, suffered with aching joints and was amazingly good at twisting my ankle. I’d been twenty-three and suffering from a bad back when a physio helpfully suggested hypermobility and I realised that being as bendy as I was wasn’t actually ‘normal’.
“Good to see things haven’t changed.”
“What did you expect? I’d have taken up gymnastics and ballet?” We all knew there was more chance of me sprouting wings and flying to the moon.
“Not quite.” He didn’t elaborate any further. “Are you finishing now?”
I nodded, realising the throbbing on my face was actually quite bad but nothing that a rare glass of wine wouldn’t sort. “Thankfully. What are you doing after your shift?”
“Sleeping. I’m on the work and sleep lifestyle. It’s good for putting off unpacking clothes.” He stepped away. “I better head back to do the last set of rounds. Some of the patients won’t even realise I’ve left the hospital.” He shook his head. “Different country, same old shit.”
“You’re not enjoying it?”
He grinned. “Elements of it. The paperwork, no. Some personnel, no. The fact that being short staffed is the norm, no. The rest of it, I can live with. Better than being a teacher.”
